Older and Taller
by bisexualcharliedavis
Summary: On the night before the Begonia Festival, Charlie and Danny converse. (platonic Charlie/Danny)


_A/N Imagine, if you will, Danny, but he's Aromatic. Charlie, but he's married to his work. You're welcome._

Danny isn't sure what woke him. He'd been asleep, pleasantly so. The air I the bedroom is cool on his face, but he's pleasantly toasty under the sheets. Usually, if he woke in the night, and that didn't happen often because he was a heavy sleeper, it was because Charlie had gotten into bed with him, seeking him out for comfort after whatever nightmare had chosen to make his night a misery. It didn't happen as often as it used to, but even when it did, he didn't mind. He liked sharing a bed with Charlie. He smelled pleasant and didn't snore or thrash around, or try and do anything that 'would make Jean frown'. But this night, his bed is empty of any foreign bodies and there was no smoke alarm going off. Getting up, he headed into the bathroom to take a piss.

He went to wash his hands, and as he rubbed the otherwise unassuming bar between his hands, he paused to look himself in the face. This was a nightly ritual of his. He was sleep ruffled, but otherwise he looked fine. At thirty-eight, Danny was pleased with how he looked. Sure, he was older, and maybe taller, but he looked a lot like how he looked when he was young. Unlike Charlie, who looked markedly different. Not that it was his fault. Since his accident in '63, his face had been different. Scarred perhaps? Certainly, gloomy-er. If that was a word. With a sigh, Danny rinsed soap off his hands, and turned to go back down the hall.

On his way, back to his room, he passed Charlie's and noticed that the door was part way open. He paused, and pressed it open to have a look in. As he expected, the bed was empty. Not unusual. Charlie was something of an insomniac and if he did sleep, it was usually some place other than his bed. It had been annoying when they still lived with Lucien and Jean, but these days, he just adapted to it. As if finding Charlie asleep behind the couch was a normal thing.

The fact that his bed was empty probably meant that he was downstairs still working, or maybe just sleeping someplace weird. Because he is a good friend, Danny headed down the stairs to perhaps prompt a sleepy Charlie to his actual bed they paid actual money for, or cover him with a blanket at least. Taking one from the hall cupboard, he made his way to Charlie's office room. Danny, as the chief inspector, has never had a need for one. Charlie, as the super intendent has many a need for one. He probably spent just as much time there as he did his desk at work. Even Lawson thinks he works too much. Charlie would disagree.

He pushed the door to the still lit room open. He's greeted by the soft classical music Charlie was listening to, back to the door, pouring over a book. He stops, and sighs softly. Charlie spends more time in here hunched over his desk then he ever has in bed. Not that Danny is someone who has the right to tell him otherwise, given how often he spends on the loveseat in here, with his feet up on the armrest, annoying Charlie. It could be a nice way to enjoy an evening. He put the cricket on the wireless, and listened in while Charlie went over his reports. Charlie hated when he put his feet up on the couch with a passion, which made Danny enjoy doing it just that little bit more. 

"Are you still doing that?" He inquired. Charlie's head raises.  
"Well Danny am I still judging a flower show tomorrow?" He countered. Danny has to admit, that was a fair point and he does feel a bit bad for him. The Begonia pageant was back in town, for the first time since 1959. As an important member of the community, whatever that meant, Charlie was meant to be judging it. Which would have been fine; if Charlie knew the first thing about Begonias. He was half convinced he was only asked to be on the panel because they thought he would say no and they could ask someone else.

Danny can't help but laugh and take a seat on Charlie's desk. He's got a book open talking about flower meanings, and there is an empty coffee cup nearby. Danny still can't stand coffee, he's always thought it tasted like dirt. Since he was thirty seven, Charlie has been drinking the stuff daily.  
"I think it's too late for that now." Danny said, peering in at the book he was looking at, and then at Charlie himself. Charlie was, by all accounts, a very handsome forty something, if a little worse for wear. He would be better, Danny supposed, if he slept more, and the bags under his eyes would dissipate some.

He seemingly took Danny's hint, and sat back in his chair. He wipes his face lazily, and closed his book.  
"I'll be honest, Danny. I'm not so much concerned about the begonias as I am about your aunt Jean." This makes Danny smile.  
"Why does Auntie Jean bother you?" He asked. "I mean, more than usual." That was a joke. Charlie and Jean, to his knowledge, got on fine, outside of when she asked him when he was getting married (never) or if he was a homosexual (none of her business).  
"Because she keeps trying to convince me to vote for her begonia." Danny coughed into his hand to disguise a laugh. Jean had done that on 1959 as well.  
"That's what's on your mind?" He asked, with a scoff.  
"She made me a jumper, Danny! It seems cruel not to give her a vote now." Charlie said, looking suitable distressed over the situation.  
"Well that's her problem." Danny said, taking the book from Charlie's fingers and opening it to a page on roses. "You being honorable's got nothing to do with her jumper making."  
"Easy for you to say." Charlie grumbled. "Remind me again why I decided to do this?"  
"Because you are a good man." Dany told him, with a smile.  
"You should have done it. You care about this sort of thing." Charlie was right, Danny did tend to have a lot more to do with the community then he did. Danny liked being a social person, he liked parties and meetings. Charlie liked to stay in their shared house. Over the years, Charlie had seemingly become more of a recluse, and Danny, very often, stayed home with him. When they first met, Charlie was not an extrovert per say, but he did the things that policemen did. He doesn't anymore. Isn't compelled to. He's the super now.

The accident has really put a dent in his career. The accident, as it was, (and that was what he called it. The Accident. As if there was no other accidents in recent history) involved a dirt road, Charlie driving, and a car flipping, and ended with Charlie lying in the bush, alone and incapacitated, for something like forty hours. Initiallly, Danny had been spending time with the otherwise volatile and invalid copper out of guilt, since he had been meant to go with him. But over time, they had formed a friendship of the best kind. The sort that lasted over ten years. Which was, well it was good.

Fact was, Danny has never been in love with anyone. Not the way that it is in books, or movies. He knows how to flirt, and how to identify people who are beautiful, but he's never loved anyone more than a friend. And it has lead to many a heartbreak over the years. He understood it in theory, everyone does. But he doesn't get it in practice. Charlie was good like that, he never wanted anything other than a friendship. They were close, of course they were there was such a time when Danny felt like he was Charlie's carer over best friend (not that he minded, of course) and such times when Charlie had comforted him through heartbreak, or a death in the family, or listened to what may be on his mind. He was an excellent listener, Charlie.

"Rose is going to be covering this, isn't she?" Rose is Matthew's niece, and the only romantic pursuit Danny had ever watched Charlie attempt. The whole thing had blown up so badly that he's never seem him attempt one since. Which was sad, because Charlie had a lot of love to offer the world, Rose and otherwise, but secretly, so secretly he won't even admit it to himself, he was glad that she wasn't going to sweep him away. That Charlie wasn't gonna leave.

"She is. Yes."  
"Is that the reason for all this?" Danny inquired. Charlie scoffed.  
"Are you a therapist now, Danny?"  
"No. I just know you."  
"Do you just?"  
"MMMhm." Charlie settled back and put his hands on his stomach, fingers laced. Charlie's always had such lovely hands, Danny thought, long fingers thin wrists.  
"Fine. I want to impress her. Is that bad?"  
"No, not really. Why?"  
"Because…Because I don't know why. Because I don't want her to have any cause to speak badly of me in the paper?"  
"She won't."  
"And how, pray tell, would you know that?"  
"Because she's a professional. And so are you." Charlie raised his eyebrows briefly, and then nodded.  
"I suppose you are correct." He said, finally. He looked at his desk lamp briefly, and looked up at Danny, clearly trying to think of the right thing to say next.  
"You haven't forgiven her for the fairy comment."  
"No, I haven't."  
"But?" Charlie looked thoughtful, and then sat up again. In this light, the grey in the front of his hair stands out that much more. Danny always liked Charlie's hair, but since it grew back in '63, the grey is all the more prominent.

"You remember, the accident?"  
"Of course  
"When I was…Lying there, in the bush. I…I had a thought." Charlie doesn't talk much about the forty odd hours he spent incapacitated in the bush and frankly, Danny doesn't blame him. What Charlie had deigned to share could be very dark and upsetting. "I promised myself that if I…Lived, then I would be happy. I would find someone or something and be happy." This happened over a decade ago, now. "And…" He sighed. "Can I start again?" Danny nodded, not sure what to expect.  
"What are we?"  
"Pardon?"  
"I just…Are we lovers? Has she been right, all these years? I mean, we're closer than friends usually are. We do everything together, and you've been….So good to me, and all my wonderful mental health quirks over the years."  
"Don't you think we would know, if we were lovers? And shut up. You do all the cooking and cleaning and that's the only payment I need."  
"That's what I've always thought." He replied, and but his thumb nail. "But the truth is, Danny, I don't want to leave this house."  
"You never want to leave the house."  
"I don't want to move out, I mean. I can't…I can't imagine a life for me outside of this place." Danny blinked, and then set the book he was still holding down on the table.  
"Pardon?"  
"I love you, Danny." Danny could practically feel his heart shatter in his chest. Charlie loved him. Charlie wanted something that he couldn't give. He is practically crying.  
"You're my best friend."  
"Yeah. And…I like being your friend. I like being with you. I don't…" He sighed, caught up again. "Do you think you'll ever get married?" His usual response to this question is 'if I meet the right girl' but Charlie can see right through him, always has.  
"No." He admitted, softly. "I don't think I will." Charlie keeps looking at him, so Danny swallows his fear. "I don't…I don't think I can love someone like that. Something's wrong with me, I think. I just don't…" Charlie nodded, before he stood, and held his arms open for Danny to enter. Danny takes the hint, and found his face pressed into the side of Charlie's head. "I'm so sorry." He said, against Charlie's head. He'd kept it inside for so long now, and his confession, he felt like he'd just barricaded out the one person who could seemingly tolerate him

Charlie doesn't say anything for a while. He is still and quiet.  
"Why are you sorry?"  
"Because you want something that I can't give you, and you're going to get married some day and I'll be here. Alone."  
"Did I say I was going anywhere?" Charlie asked, concerned. "I don't intend to." Danny can feel that his face is damp, but doesn't have the strength to pull away from Charlie. "I only ask, because, I don't intend to marry either, because I'm already married." Pause, "To my work, of course. And I suppose to you, in theory." This got his attention.  
"To me?"  
"Well, yes." Charlie replied, "I live with you, I rely on you still, I can't even imagine a life without you with me. And I love you. I don't know much about love, but I feel very strongly about you. Like it or not, I'm tied to you. For better, or for worse."  
"Do you mean that?"  
"Of course, you dolt." Charlie sighed, releasing him. Danny rubbed his face with his hands.  
"You're my best friend." He told Charlie, "You mean the whole world to me." He said, taking Charlie's long pale fingers into his own. "And I love you." He said, forcefully, Charlie had laid himself out bare; this was the least he could do. Charlie smiles at him, and carefully took hold of Danny's hands as well.  
"Good. And just so you know, I don't think there's anything wrong with you." He told Danny, "I certainly don't think you're broken." He decided. Danny smiles back, awkward and a little sad.  
"Shall we go to bed, then?" Danny asked. Charlie looked at his books, and then nodded yes. They went upstairs again, and at the door to his bedroom, Charlie turned half around. Danny paused.

"I won't fall asleep right away, if you'd like some company." Charlie scratched his chin.  
"I think I may."


End file.
